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“What’s that?”
“It’s my lunch, doctor.”
Garak settled his plate down on his side of the table and tucked his napkin into the front of his coat.
Julian stared down at his plate with curiosity.
Instead of the various salads and light lunches he had grown to expect his friend to have his plate was filled with a series of small to medium earth desserts filled with what he assumed to be cream and chocolate, decorated with quite delicate fruit puree patterns.
The patterns were soon turned to flaky rubble as Garak’s spoon squashed them into a gooey paste.
Julian forced down his mouthful of bread, pushing in a stray bit of crust poking out from between his lips.
It choked him slightly on the way down and he had to lightly bang his chest to clear his airways.
He prepared himself for reprimand but received none.
Instead Garak piled up his spoon with a similarly unhealthy amount and shoved it into his mouth and swallowed without taking much time to savour the taste.
He loaded the spoon again.
It was quite concerning.
“Garak are you feeling alright?”
He let out an exacerbated sigh around his spoon.
“I’m quite alright doctor, why do you ask?”
Ah. A bit on edge today are we?
“You’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth but I’ve never seen you eat like this at lunch – never mind at such a large quantity as you are now. Naturally, it suggests something isn’t quite right.”
Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, because he shifted in his seat and gripped his spoon tighter.
He narrowed his eyes and parted his lips as if to say something but decided against it.
“I-I didn’t mean it like that you aren’t overweight or anything I was just, uh, it’s a bit against the pattern of what you usually eat. Uh.”
That got Garak to break his neutral expression into something akin to fondness and he shook his head.
“I know what you meant, doctor. I’ve just had a rather...difficult morning at the shop. As the days go by on this positively lovely station it becomes increasingly difficult not to dispose of some of the more troubling customers by halting their air supply with a stray cut of ribbon.”
Julian let out a short snort then covered his nose.
But the man had heard him and was starting to smile.
“Oh, I wouldn’t pay them any attention. You should see some of the patients I have to deal with. Switch?”
Garak leaned forward and placed a hand over his, the warmth seeping through and softly caressing his knuckles.
He patted it softly.
“My dear the second I let you design even a handkerchief in my shop is the day I die.”
Julian let out a mock sound of offense and turned his body away from him.
“How dare you.”
They shared a long smile which left a hot feeling in the doctor’s cheeks.
He watched Garak as he looked down at his plate with sad eyes.
“You know, I’m not in the mood for desserts of any sort any more. As I have told you time and time again sitting at a work bench all day does nothing for my problem and I should really know better.”
His hand settled over his belly and he shook his head.
He pushed his plate away.
“Garak I don’t know where you get this idea that you’re in any way out of shape. Yes, you do have a bit of a round stomach but you carry it well.”
Oh god did I just say what I think I said?
“No! I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, it’s quite nice, I like it on you. Not that you should keep it for me! Not that you are. Umm. Well.”
Julian coughed loudly and proceeded to shovel the rest of his sandwich into his mouth while his eyes burned into a rather interesting wine stain on the carpet.
Was that shaped like a fish? Could also be a bow-tie or an hour-glass or...
Something clinked with his plate and he looked up to see Garak holding out another spoon for him.
“Here.”
Julian swallowed, still not meeting his friend’s eyes.
“Look I’m sorry-“
“Doctor do I look offended to you?”
He met his gaze and decided, no, he didn’t look offended.
In fact, he looked quite elated.
He took the spoon offered to him, his fingers brushing against Garak’s fingertips for a second.
“Sharing is something you’re quite fond of yes? I’ve heard you remark to Mrs O’Brien’s children often enough about its importance.”
A strange fluttery feeling shot through him as he scooped up part of a rather delectable looking blueberry tartlet which was then blocked from vacating the plate by Garak’s own spoon. He gave the doctor a sly look.
“Not that one.”
“Oh?”
Julian raised an eyebrow, and dragged his spoon across the plate in an effort to escape but Garak’s spoon mirrored his movement, completely blocking him.
“But I rather liked the look of this one.”
“True? Oh well that is a shame dear but I’ve had my eye on it since I sat down.”
“I find that hard to believe, considering you were quite content with stuffing your face with half the others before you noticed it.”
Julian held his breath, convinced he’d gone too far.
He relaxed his grip on his spoon and Garak took the opportunity to snap the tart up like a viper into the concave of his own spoon and into Julian’s open about to apologise for being a right git’s mouth.
In complete shock he let out a small squeak as the jam from the centre of the tart rolled down his chin.
He looked to Garak with wide eyes to see the tailor covering his face with his hand as his shoulders shook.
Eventually he looked up to meet Julian’s eyes, and leaned close with his chin on this hand.
His eyes traced the trail of jam that had escaped his lips.
“I’m sorry. How rude of me. I just thought you needed it...you’re so skinny you see. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I happen to quite like the way you look. It suits you.”
Julian wiped his chin.
He eyed another small dessert on the plate and also eyed up Garak’s satisfied smirk.
You want to play? Let’s play...